


so wake me up (when it's all over)

by Kyele



Category: The Musketeers (2014), d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyele/pseuds/Kyele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://tatzelwyrm.tumblr.com/">tatzelwyrm</a> <a href="http://tatzelwyrm.tumblr.com/post/125505082298/otpprompts-person-a-returns-home-really-late-at">tagged me</a>: Person A returns home really late at night (some time in the stupid hour…like 3am) after a really long meeting or something and is so ready to hit the sack - only to discover that Person B went to bed a few hours earlier and took literally all of the covers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so wake me up (when it's all over)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grabmotte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grabmotte/gifts).



> It's been ages since I commentboxed fic; I'd forgotten how fun it can be. This is unedited from its [tumblr original](timeforalongstory.tumblr.com/post/125519030050/tatzelwyrm-otpprompts-person-a-returns-home) (since that would kinda defeat the point :p). Enjoy some silly sweet domestic Trevilieu fluff dear :)

Armand gets home late from the office almost every night, but during the end of the fiscal year it’s worse than usual. The date comes at the same time every year, but no matter how many times Armand reminds those under his aegis as CFO, somehow everyone from Contracts to Accounts Payable to Timesheet Compliance fail to plan properly and run around like the sky is falling onto their heads.

Armand’s used to late hours and early mornings. You don’t make VP and CFO of a Fortune 500 company at 35 without being driven. But this is wearing even for him. He just wants to take off his shoes, shed his clothes, and collapse. He’s already imagining it: firm mattress and even firmer pillow; smooth sheets and pleasantly weighted comforter, the indescribable feeling of being skin-to-skin with his longsuffering, patient, wonderful husband -

Correction. His insufferable, impatient, _covers-hogging_ husband _._

Armand finds himself standing by his side of the bed with his hands on his hips. Jean had failed to close the bedroom window fully, and a streetlight casts a ray of pale fluorescence across his face. How Jean can sleep that way is a mystery to Armand. When Armand’s here he makes sure to close the shades all the way. But Jean often forgets when Armand is working late.

Apparently today Armand has worked so late Jean’s forgotten he has a husband at all.

Armand is annoyed. Definitely annoyed. He’s working his way up to waking Jean up to tell Jean how annoyed he is when Jean makes a face in his sleep and rolls over with a piteous little sigh and an absolutely adorable wiggle of his well-defined tush. It would probably be even more adorable if Armand could see said definition clearly, but it’s hidden beneath the aforementioned covers. Still, Armand feels his irritation ebbing. After all, Jean’s the one who’s been abandoned to largely live the life of the single person while Armand attempts once again to explain to his minions why compliance with government regulations is really more like a rule than a guideline. Jean’s the one who’s been shouldering the brunt of the chores, even the ones he hates, like vacuuming. Jean’s the one who has to go to sleep alone.

Armand _hates_ going to sleep alone.

He sighs. He’d like some comforter and some cuddles, but he’ll settle for knowing he’s making his husband happy.

* * *

He’s woken up the next morning by a disgustingly wide-awake Jean, who’s rolled Armand over from his customary side-sleeping position to lie flat on his back with Jean sitting on his hips.

Armand blinks the cobwebs from his eyes and tries to focus. Jean. Sitting on his lap. Morning sex?

Wait. Regroup. Jean looks put out. He’s got that dismayed twist to his lips that generally doesn’t signal sex in Armand’s future. Armand sighs mentally and tells his flesh to calm down. Then he tries to look as attentive and dutiful as any man can who’s been effectively abandoning his husband for the last four weeks and will probably have to continue doing so for the four weeks following.

“Good morning, dear,” Armand greets carefully.

Jean only looks more put out. “It’s morning! What time did you get in? Tell me you didn’t work all night.”

“No, no,” Armand soothes. “I got in around 3am, I think.”

The frown lines only deepen. “You didn’t wake me.”

“Of course not!” Armand may not know much about how to be in a relationship - it’s frankly miraculous that Jean puts up with him, never mind continues to love him, and Armand prays rosaries in thanks for that daily - but he knows better than to wake up a sleeping spouse past midnight. That’s relationships 101, right? The right thing to do is sneak into bed carefully and let your spouse sleep.

Jean does not seem to agree. “I wanted you to wake me.”

“You did?” _You did_?

“Yes!” Armand’s mystification must be obvious, because Jean sighs and explains. “I don’t sleep well unless I know you’re home. If I fall asleep without you, even if you come in later, unless you wake me up I just toss and turn.”

“Oh.” Armand _has_ noticed a lot of tossing and turning the last few weeks, but he’d put it down to the added stress of Armand’s own job.

“I told you this before. Remember?”

Armand nods because, yes, he does remember. He’d just misinterpreted it as a request for Armand to get home before Jean goes to bed. He’d even succeeded, three times out of five, for the first few weeks of the end-of-year crunch. What he hadn’t realized was that Jean had been asking to be woken up even _after_ Armand had started getting home on the wrong side of midnight.

“I thought last night would be the charm,” Jean huffs. “I folded up all the comforters and put them underneath me before I fell asleep. You hate sleeping without comforters. I thought for sure you’d wake me up to get at them.”

Armand’s mouth falls open without his conscious input. Then he finds himself sputtering. “That was _on purpose_?”

“Of course it was! I don’t usually need five comforters, you idiot!”

Armand takes a closer look at the bed. Indeed, all five comforters they own are strewn about, some on the floor, presumably from the aforementioned tossing and turning. They certainly hadn’t been folded neatly when Armand had arrived home at 3am; he’d’ve noticed, even in his work-fogged state. A glance past Jean’s shoulder reveals the hallway linen closet standing open and half-emptied. Armand had simply been too tired last night to go rummaging in there for spare comforters. He’d been too tired to even remember that there _were_ spare comforters. He’d just collapsed.

He winces. “Sorry,” he says in a small voice. He’s messed up this whole relationship thing again, hasn’t he? “I just - you looked so peaceful - I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“So you slept without covers?” Jean’s frown lines don’t lighten, exactly, but their purpose shifts. “Idiot. Don’t make yourself unhappy on my account.”

Once again Armand is at a loss. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s no good at love, but he’s pretty sure that he’ll go on choosing to make himself unhappy, if the alternative is making _Jean_ unhappy.

The frown lines do lighten now. “Oh, you old softie,” Jean mutters. Then he leans down and kisses Armand. “Look, just wake me up from now on, okay? Just enough to see you’re here. I’ll go right back to sleep, and I’ll sleep better, trust me.”

“Okay,” Armand agrees, because it seems to be the right thing to do.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” Jean’s face relaxes into a smile. His hips shift, thoughtfully. Then he leans down and kisses Armand again.

Armand is still confused. But morning sex seems to be back on the menu, so he figures he’s done something right.

 


End file.
